Long Shadow
by Ieyre
Summary: AU of 3A. Operation: Save Henry takes a darker and stranger turn when Rumplestiltskin's mother stakes a claim in the complex custody battle over her great-grandson. Dark Family drama, Swanfire, Charmingstiltskin family shenanigans all around!
1. A Plan is Interrupted

They were close— _so_ close to getting Henry back.

Whether it was David and Mary-Margaret's boundless, completely insane hope seeping into her, or some kind of Savior Spidey-sense at work, Emma Swan didn't know—but she wasn't going to question her gut on this one.

It was, for better or worse—usually right.

She took another hack at the jungle with the cutlass Hook had given her—the cutlass that had once been Neal's. For the seventh time in the last half-hour she looked over at him just to prove that he was really there, with her and her parents. Her parents—Snow White and Prince Charming, who were with her, Neal, Captain Hook, and freaking _Tinkerbell,_ on Neverland, about to face Peter _effing_ Pan to save their son.

As if sensing her look, he turned, instinctually, and a pair of warm brown eyes—the eyes she'd instantly recognized in Henry's face that night he came to her apartment—met hers.

The smile he gave her didn't meet his eyes. Emma recognized that look—it said this job was about to go south.

"What's wrong?"

"Besides... _everything_?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm just...thinking about getting out of here."

Considering their entire exit strategy was built around _his_ plan, Emma did not like the lack of confidence in Neal Cassidy's voice.

She spun on her heel, blocking his path.

"I thought when it came to getting off this rock—" Emma jabbed a finger in his chest. " _You_ were the guy."

It wasn't flirtatious, exactly—but the quirk of his lip brought back memories of happier times— times when, in spite of them being on the road, only a stolen VW bug to call home, her heart would have skipped a beat just to see him smiling at her.

"I _am_ the guy—it's just.." Warning bells rang in Emma's head. "I'm not sure if it's going to be as simple as I thought."

Emma crossed her arms.

"Using a shadow we trapped in a magic coconut to fly a pirate ship is your idea of _simple_?"

"I think..." Neal rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy. "I think when I got off the island before, Pan might've let me go."

Before she could reply, he pushed past her, slashing at the branch in front of him with unnecessary force—and it took a moment for her to process the words, spin her head around and bound in front of him, cutting off his escape route again.

"What makes you think that?"

"He...kind of implied it."

He tried to step around her—tried being the operative.

"Pan did?" He nodded. "When did you get the chance to chat with him about that?"

"Before he put me in the cage he had to get a few potshots in," he said, shrugging. "Couldn't resist, I guess."

He spoke in the flat tone that suggested the knowledge came from a lot of experience. She turned back towards the rest of the party, significantly ahead of them, now—only Tinkerbell had noticed they had fallen behind.

Emma mouthed " _go ahead"_ to her, and the fairy nodded, understanding. Emma looked back at Neal, clearly preparing himself for her displeasure.

"Funny that you didn't mention this before _now,_ " she muttered.

"I don't know if it's true, Emma!" he said, defensively. "It's probably not. He's got a huge ego, if _I_ got the best of him, there's no way he'd ever admit it. When he said it I thought he was lying for sure..."

"So what's changed your mind?"

"He just—" Neal raised his hand and gestured vaguely around his face. "Gets in your head."

Emma knew not to push, and she stepped aside. The two of them jogged together and caught up with Tink, in the rear of the pack.

"So, how do you get him out?" she asked, after a few minutes of silence, as they pushed past another series of ugly, thick branches.

His mouth thinned into a grim line, just as the six of them emerged into a large clearing, distinguished with several large boulders.

"You don't."

A rustling in the bushes on the other side of the clearing stopped her next question—and the entire group—short.

"Whoever goes there—stand down," Hook said,announcing their presence with a lift of his sword, and Emma's parents stepped to her side, Mary Margaret drawing her bow and angling, consciously or not, in a protective stance. The trees shook again, an unnatural quiver, and Neal stuck one arm in front of her, resting the other one on her shoulder.

She saw the near imperceptible shift in Tinkerbell's body language, the pulse of fear in Hook's eye as he drew his sword, felt the tightening of Neal's hand on her shoulder—and she knew.

"Now, _that's_ not very friendly."

Knew it was Pan before he even poked his smug face through the trees. Emma scanned the forest around them. No lost boys. No Felix.

Just—Pan.

His bright blue eyes derisively looked them over, starting with Tink, pale and tense, over to Hook and David and Mary-Margaret and sliding past her altogether, only to land, finally, on Neal. A drop of sweat trickled down his hand onto her shoulder—the shoulder his hand was still clamped onto.

"Well, Baelfire, I see you made it out of the Echo Caves, just as I knew you would...eventually." His face twisted into something approaching apologetic. "I hope it was worth—any _pain_ you might've felt at what you heard."

He tilted his head in Emma's direction, looking to her like the universe's most punchable puppy.

The man at her side clenched his jaw.

"What do you want, Pan?" Hook asked, cutting off whatever curt reply Neal had waiting in the wings.

The boy tutted, and taking a lanky step towards Hook, playfully batted the drawn sword out of his face.

"Touchy lot, aren't you?" He raised his hands with exaggerated deference. "Relax. I come in peace—especially considering the treachery of _some_ in your number." He shot Tinkerbell a pointed look.

"Unless you're going to lead us to my son, there's nothing _to_ talk about."

He leaned back against a tree and considered her, smirk hovering on his lips. That punching thing was starting to get more appealing by the second.

"I notice you don't have back-up," Emma continued. "Has it occurred to you that you're outnumbered?"

"I'm sure your parents, a wingless fairy, a pirate and—" he sniffed. "— _Bae_ , rank high in your estimation, Savior, but when it comes to magic, you're a _bit_ outclassed."

"You want to try me?" she growled, trying to shove Neal's stupid arm aside—he was not moving, _damn it_.

"You know, I believe I would."

Her parents both stepped in front of her, protective instincts blazing. In other circumstances she might've appreciated it, but now she really wished she had enough control over her magic to shove them—and Neal—behind a protective barrier and have at it with this creep.

"Emma," Neal hissed in her ear, and when she jerked her head around to argue with him, she saw fear in his eyes. "Chill, alright?"

She relaxed her shoulders just slightly and stepped back.

"He's going to make us listen to what he has to say, love—might as well get it over with."

Emma lowered the cutlass and shoved it back in its scabbard.

"Fine. You want to talk, _talk_."

"Not many people would have the nerve to give me orders on _my_ island, Savior," Pan said, voice brimming with amusement. "But I don't want to repeat myself, so we'll wait."

"Wait for who?" David asked—Emma noted, proudly, that her father was the only one who refused to lower his sword.

"The Dark One and the Evil Queen, of course. They're heading straight for us."

Her eyes shot open in surprise— _Gold and Regina were together? When had_ that _happened_?— but when she looked over at Neal, she saw that he—wasn't.

"How long has she been with my father?"

He also didn't seem shocked that his father was here, too.

"I don't know. Regina was—with us until Hook told me you were alive," That reminded her of the Echo Caves, and her conscience twinged. It wasn't the point, and she had to keep reminding herself of that—that it didn't matter right now, he'd _said_ he understood—but that almost made it worse. Neal had been too understanding the last few weeks. It would have been easier if he really was the deadbeat jerk she'd convinced herself he was for so many years. "She—didn't believe it was true, so she went off on her own—"

"—Where she promptly found your father, wallowing, and the two of them went and strong- armed a mermaid into retrieving a magical trinket from Storybrooke—one Rumplestiltskin hopes will get rid of me," Pan finished for her. "Pandora's Box."

It took Emma a moment to process the absurd sentence that he had just rattled off so matter-of- factly. What the _hell_ were Gold and Regina up to?

When her brain did catch up, she blurted out the first thought that came to her.

"Will it work?"

The boy shrugged, his smirk—somehow—widening further.

"Who knows? I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

Right on cue, the bushes to Pan's right rustled, and Gold, with Regina close at his heels, emerged from the endless darkness of the jungle. The older man, still dressed in that black leather getup only he could make work, stumbled forward in shock right between Neal and Peter Pan—and froze. She noticed that he clutched a small black box ( _Pandora's Box? Seriously?_ ), covered in weird carvings and symbols.

Emma could see the wheels in his head working double time—he didn't look surprised to see Neal, and considering her parents had told him his son was _dead_ a week ago...he also didn't seem too thrilled, either.

 _Great, more drama._

Regina didn't let the awkward silence between all parties last long.

" _You_!"

The teenager swept her an elaborate bow.

"Your majesty," As his catlike eyes moved past her and onto Gold, they narrowed in calculation. " _Laddie_. You're late."

Abruptly, Gold unfroze—and immediately he turned his attention to his son.

"Ba—Neal," Gold corrected himself, clumsily. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he replied, stonily. Not the heartfelt reunion of a father and son—confirming Emma's suspicion.

Funny how he hadn't mentioned that.

"What are you waiting for, Gold?" Regina demanded of him, but he was staring hard at Neal, determinedly avoiding eye contact, and Emma could feel the palpable tension radiating off her ex. _Something happened between them._ "He's _right there_."

"Yes, Rumple—I'm _right here_."

Pan held his hands up, smile wider than ever—eyes glittering dangerously.

Gold shot him a look of unadulterated venom, before turning back to Neal, a mixture of worry and desperation plastered on his face. _He_ seemed to have gotten even stiffer, his grip on her arm even tighter, and it felt like he was trying to shove her back away from his dad, too.

"Are you alright? Did he—what did he—?"

"He was _fine_ , Rumple. You heard him. I've been taking good care of Baelfire—just as I always have."

Gold clenched his eyes and a fist and turned on one of his booted heels.

"I want to hear it from my _son_ ," he sneered, baring his teeth and brandishing the box at him. "I'll deal with _you_ after."

Peter Pan's smile dropped. The boy pushed himself off the tree and stalked towards Gold, who stiffened.

"I _warned_ you about threatening me, laddie," He leaned his face close to Gold—and the sneer on the pawnbroker's face instantly dropped, replaced with a lost dumbstruckness that reminded her more of the guy who'd freaked out when he had to go through airport security than of a powerful sorcerer. "We both know it tends to get you in trouble...usually with the people you love."

For a long moment, the two of them just looked at each other, unblinking—it was like witnessing the most intense staring contest ever—before Gold broke eye contact.

"I haven't forgotten," he said, stiffly, staring at the ground.

The former queen rolled her eyes dramatically to Neverland's twinkling, too-bright stars.

"Oh, for the love of—Gold, if you've got cold feet, give it—" Regina marched up to him yanked at his right hand. "Where—where did it go?"

Emma looked down at his right hand, where she'd seen the black box she still didn't understand just two seconds before. It was gone.

"What did you do?" the former queen turned on him, but Gold's focus was on Pan and only Pan.

"Well, now..." Pan looked down at Gold's empty hands and smirked. "Clever."

"What kind of...magic did you use, Gold?" she asked, when no other answers seemed to be forthcoming.

But, to her surprise, Pan answered her question.

"He's concealed it—" He looked surprised—something Emma had not yet scene from him yet—impressed. "—In plain sight."

"Why?"

"It's a game," Gold said, evenly. At the word 'game' Pan's head shot up, his smile widened with a childish excitement that made Emma's skin crawl. "The box is hidden."

"Hidden where?"

"Not hidden _where_ ," Pan looked delighted—the rest of the group, less so, especially when he began to stalk between them, looking each member of their group up and down like they were livestock—or a lot of used cars. " _With whom_."

Identical looks of puzzlement crossed all their faces at once. Gold waved one of his hands impatiently.

"I've given Pandora's Box to one of you—and only one," he said. "It's a riddle. Who did I choose?"

Pan spun around, manic eyes dancing.

"And you _do_ know how much I enjoy a good riddle, don't you, laddie?"

"You're playing _a game_ with him?" Regina practically screeched. Gold kept his eyes locked on their enemy, unfazed.

"Games are the only language he understands," he said, calmly.

"So...what exactly does this thing do?" Emma asked.

"The legend says that it once contained all the in evil the world," Gold supplied, smoothly, matter-of-factly. His tendency to say ludicrous things in that weirdly well-bred manner that he wore like the biggest mask in the world was something she did not expect to ever get used to.

"That doesn't really explain how it's helpful in this situation, Gold," she replied, eying Pan warily. "Or how the two of you got it."

"It's a magical prison," Regina said, crossing her arms. "We can use it to contain him."

"We managed to get a message through to Belle, and she retrieved it from my shop and sent it to us."

"He's hidden it with one of you..." Pan murmured, more to himself than any of them. "But which one? Who would the Dark One choose?"

His sharp eyes considered each of them in turn.

"I think we can rule the fairy and the pirate out, for reasons I don't need to say..." Smirking, he next he looked at Emma's parents, David first—unconsciously Emma's father stepped in front of her mother. "The prince can't leave Neverland anyway, so he's not a bad pick...but neither he nor his wife seem to have much stomach for what needs to be done..." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them, derisively. "This queen has no self-control, clearly..." Regina sneered at him but kept her mouth shut, for once. "Which leaves...you two."

He stopped and planted his feet in the sand in front of Emma and Neal, looking between them.

"Emma is the obvious choice—she wants to get her son back, she's tough, good but not _prudish_ like her parents, very magical—which you pride, but she's also brave, which you're decidedly not. She can be trusted to use it well. " He tilted his head, Cheshire Cat grin widening. "So why have you given it to _Baelfire_?"

Materializing from nothing—or perhaps, Emma thought, becoming uncloaked?—a small satchel appeared on Neal's shoulder. He jumped, and behind her, Emma heard her mother let out a sharp gasp.

Gold was the least shocked of them all.

"That's a very interesting choice, laddie."

Neal adjusted the strap on his shoulder, uneasily, and he lifted the pouch up and examined the top, hands fiddling with the flap.

"You want to be careful of that, son," said Gold, clearing his throat, and Emma, not for the first time, wondered how he knew—because he wasn't looking at Neal.

"What is it?" his son asked, dropping the flap closed again.

"It's a magic safe," Pan supplied. "One that your father's enchanted." Neal frowned at the implication of magic, instinctually.

"Enchanted to do what?"

"Pandora's Box can be used to trap anyone— _anything,_ no matter how powerful. Anyone who is a threat will be trapped inside it until they're released by the carrier." Gold put the slightest emphasis on the last word, and Neal looked up at his father, sharply. The sorcerer turned pawnbroker continued, tone stoic. "Only you can open that satchel, Bae."

Neal paled—and something significant passed between him and his father for just a moment.

"I know you'll use it when the time is right."

He gave Gold a barely perceptible nod—and Peter Pan's eyes narrowed to catlike slits.

"Oh, very _subtle_ , Rumple."

He didn't seem angry, exactly, but there was an edge to Pan's voice that said, at least to Emma, that he was no longer playing games.

"Great—you lost us the one advantage we had. Surprise."

"I don't think that was really a secret, Regina," said Mary-Margaret, uneasy. Certainly Pan's expression—a mixture of bored and childishly vindictive—didn't suggest he was afraid of Pandora's Box, whether Neal, Regina, or any of his enemies were pointing it at him.

"Pan knew what you had—something the Dark One knew as well," Hook said. Pan let out a short and disingenuous laugh.

"Is Hook _complimenting_ you, Rumple? Never thought I'd see the day." He gave them all an indulgent smile. "Well, I solved your riddle. What do I win?"

"My eternal respect," he said, voice heavily steeped in irony.

"Not much of a prize. I already had it," Pan laughed. "But it'll do...for now. You have enough to on your plate without me calling to collect."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Because even if you did trap me in that box, you've got two bigger problems to contend with."

"What are you talking about?" David demanded, brandishing his sword in Pan's face.

"I don't know how many times I have to spell this out for you," He gripped the sword and pushed it down as easily as you would a toy. "—Nobody leaves Neverland unless I let them." He turned to Neal. "I hope you haven't been filling Emma's head with promises of daring escape, Baelfire —not after I told you I let you go."

"You're bluffing."

"Are you _so_ sure of that, Bae?"

"Why would you let me go?" Neal demanded, voice shaking. "What reason could you have had to do it?"

"I would think that's obvious," he said, looking between the two of them pointedly. The hairs on the back of Emma's neck stood on end. "I needed you to sire him, didn't I?"

At those words Neal, already pale, looked like he was going to be sick.

"How could you have _possibly_ known Neal was going to be Henry's father?" Mary Margaret asked, incredulous.

"It's quite simple, really," Pan said, rummaging around in his pocket. "Watch."

He pulled a small, worn scroll out of rocket, unrolling it with a flourish and holding it up in the air for all of them to see.

"Holy _shit_..."

It was an incredibly detailed charcoal drawing of her son. Of Henry.

"Where the _hell_ did you get that?"

"He's had it since before I got here," Neal answered, voice heavy. "He used to have Felix check every boy's face when the Shadow brought them to Neverland to see if it matched. I was—"

His voice cracked and he trailed off, breathing uneven. Gold took a reflexive step towards his son, but the second he saw the look of concern on his father's face, Neal's eyes shuttered up again.

"I was one of them."

"I don't know how the hell you got that picture of my kid—but that doesn't explain how you knew who his father would be."

"I'll show you."

Still holding the picture up, Pan's hand glowed, and the inked lines that made up Henry's face shifted, swirled and then, impossibly—reformed in the image of someone else.

Another boy, only a little older than Henry was now.

The thatch of dark hair lay thicker on this boy's head. Behind the strong chin, pointed up in defiance, was a pair of eyes set exactly as her son's were, but the look in them—the haunted, hunted expression—she'd never seen Henry look at her like that.

She did recognize it, though.

" _Bae_..."

Gold and Hook said the word in unison, but she hadn't needed confirmation from _them_ to know who it was. It had been so easy the night Henry came to see her to believe he was Neal Cassidy's son, and looking at the image of young Baelfire from back then—the resemblance was unmistakeable.

Again, with no warning, Baelfire melted, and the ink on the parchment swirled around, reforming into yet another face.

At first Emma thought it was Henry again, but the drawing of _this_ boy was younger than the other two. A pair of bright, intelligent eyes shone out of his narrow face, and the nose (just like Baelfire's) was splashed with freckles. He shared Bae's pointed chin, but this kid—probably no older than eight—had a doll-like innocence to him.

"What is that supposed to prove?" Regina asked, scoffing. "It's just another picture of Henry."

"No, it's not," Gold said, softly.

"Is _that_ what you think, your majesty?" Pan laughed. "That this is Henry?"

"I raised him, didn't I? You think I can't recognize my own son?"

"Regina," Gold said, louder. "It's not him."

"Of course it is!"

"So sweet, so innocent..." Pan tapped the edge of the parchment gently and shook his head, tutting. "You'd never believe he grew up to be the Dark One, would you?"

There was a short, stunned silence, before—

"No _way_..."

"That really you, Gold?" she asked the stony-faced man at her side, currently shooting murderous daggers at Pan for what seemed, in her estimation, to be the least of his transgressions.

"Yes," he bit out, curtly.

"Cute kid," Emma cracked a smile.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me, Rumple," Regina gestured at the picture of the cherubic child in disbelief.

"Even _I_ was young once, Regina."

"Yeah, but I didn't realize you were also _Tiny Tim_."

Emma choked back a laugh, in spite of the situation—it was too ridiculous. She looked over at Neal, and for the first time since his father had shown up, she saw a softness in his eyes.

"Alright—I think you've made your point, Pan."

He rolled the scroll back up and put it carefully in the pouch at his waist.

"I think the strong family resemblance speaks for itself, don't you?" He gave Emma a wicked grin. "No doubt of who his father is, that's for certain."

She glowered at him—if looks could kill, they'd be halfway back to Storybrooke by now.

Regina snorted.

"That scroll didn't prove anything."

"Regina," Tinkerbell said, exasperated. " _You_ were the one who thought the picture of the Dark One was your son—"

"Do _not_ compare Henry to him!"

"Does it bother you so much that the lad takes after Rumple, your majesty?" Pan asked, lightly, leaning against the tree again. "I mean...he certainly doesn't take after _you_."

A fireball instantly flared up in her hand.

"Why you little—"

"For God's sake, Regina, let it go. He's only trying to goad you," Gold snapped, impatiently. Slowly, she lowered her arm and extinguished the flame. "We've wasted enough time with these games as it is. What is the second thing?"

"Second thing?" Pan repeated.

For a moment Emma didn't know what Gold was talking about, until—

"You said that even if we defeated you, there were two other things we had to worry about," said David.

"Ah, that's right—so I did." Pan pushed off the tree, and that cat-who-ate-the-canary look he always wore dimmed. "The second thing is—a larger problem. For all of us."

"What could be worse?" Emma shivered. "What have you done to Henry?"

"It's not about what _I've_ done."

"What do you—"

"I don't _have_ Henry anymore," Pan drew himself up to his full height, and if he liked games—this sure as hell didn't feel like one. "The boy is gone. He's been taken."


	2. A Deal is Struck

"He's lying," Hook said, and that was what Emma heard, piercing through an uproar from the unlikely band of her son's would-be rescuers.

 _She_ said nothing—Pan's words had sent shockwaves through Emma's system, and her mind was trying desperately to keep up with her body, already gripping the handle of the sword at her side, ready to hold it to his throat again, press him against a tree and _demand answers._

"I'm not," Pan answered Hook's accusation, pulling a knife out of his pocket and idly picking at the bark of the tree next to him. "I returned to my camp an hour ago—he was gone. None of my Lost Boys had a clue what had happened, didn't even realize something was amiss. For a _moment_ I thought you all had gotten the best of me—"

He stabbed the trunk, with a sudden burst of violence that David jump back in surprise and Mary Margaret raise her bow. Blood-like sap seeped down from the open gash in the tree.

He left the knife there.

"—Then I remembered who I was up against, and it occurred to me that such a show of tactics and magic was _a bit_ unlikely."

"Show of _magic_?" Mary Margaret repeated, lowering her weapon, uneasy, eyebrows knit with concern. "What proof is there that magic is involved?"

"My boys are under strict orders to watch Henry with their life, princess—someone," He scowled. "—Or some _thing_ tampered with their memories."

"So there's no way Henry could've escaped," Emma said, the small flame of hope she hadn't even realized had been kindled burning out again. "He's not somewhere on Neverland by himself?"

Pan's eyes narrowed.

"You better hope he isn't, Savior—you wouldn't want him wandering around this island unsupervised, trust me." She shivered. "Oh, he's been taken—there's no doubt."

Pan stretched out his left hand, and a glowing object slowly materialized. A...rock.

Emma blinked—then squinted. No, not a rock. A large, flat stone covered with tiny squiggles—some incomprehensible language, clearly.

Just as quickly as they had appeared, the letters disappeared, sinking into the surface of the stone.

"What the hell _is_ that?"

"It's a message," Pan said, as if it were obvious. "From Henry's kidnapper."

"A magical _ransom note_?" Regina scoffed, crossing her arms. "That's _ridiculous_."

Emma felt that familiar tingling at the base of her spine— _It's true._ For the first time since she'd stepped foot on this island, she was _certain_ Peter Pan was telling the truth. Not that it did her any good.

"No more ridiculous than anything _else_ that ever happens. I want to hear him out," she said, drawing another gasp of exasperation from the former queen. "What does it say?"

Pan closed his eyes, solemnly.

"...I don't know. That's why I'm here." He gave her one of his patented unblinking looks. "It's in an ancient and rather _peculiar_ runic dialect."

"So why—"

"It just so happens," he said, pulling his knife out of the tree and wiping the sap off on Hook's jacket, casually. The pirate immediately grabbed his shoulder with his one good hand—and scowled at the gelatinous goop that now covered it. "That _one_ in your number is the foremost expert on runic dialects in all the realms."

Pan lifted his eyes from the dagger and fixed them on Gold—whose lip curled into a sneer.

"I suppose that's meant to be flattering."

"So touchy," Pan said, shaking his head, his eyes glittering in amusement. "I thought you were here to save your grandson, Rumple." He waved the stone in the older man's face. "Accepting a compliment from _me_ is a small price to pay."

After several taunting waves, Gold snatched it from the boy's hands. He examined it for a moment, then looked up again, visibly annoyed.

"It would help if you released the _cloaking_ spell you've put on it," he said, dryly.

"Well, now—before I do that, I need a few...reassurances."

"You want to make a deal with us?" David asked, incredulously.

"No—not with you, prince," he dismissed him, airily. "With the Dark One."

Gold didn't look surprised. He twisted the ring on his finger— _was that a nervous habit_? Emma had never noticed it before now.

"What guarantee do you need?"

"Information. I'll let you see the message—if..." Pan drawled the word, lazily. "...You tell me what it says."

"Absolutely _not_!"

"Regina—we don't have Henry right now," Emma said, steel in her voice. "We aren't in a position to say no."

"You want to hand Henry to him on a silver platter?" the queen demanded, furiously. "For all we know this is another one of his games!"

"It's not." Gold narrowed his eyes at Pan. "So—the stone in exchange for a translation of its contents? That's the deal you want?"

"Yes—that's the deal. And no creative embellishments: just as it's written." Pan cocked an eyebrow. "I know you, Rumplestiltskin—I know you love a good loophole."

"Are you calling me a _cheat_?" Gold asked, his voice unnaturally calm.

"Of course not! You have a talent for finding ways to leave your options open. I was only remarking on it," Pan grinned. "That's our agreement. Unless there's anything you wanted to add, Rumple?"

"Not that can be said in mixed company."

Pan snickered, and the stone in Gold's hand glowed.

It still looked like hieroglyphs to Emma, but she crowded around Gold like her parents, Regina— always so impatient—and Tinkerbell, who, being a fairy, might've had a better idea of what she was looking at than Emma did.

Only Hook, Neal and Pan held back—the former two looking grim and uncertain, the latter all feline anticipation.

Gold's eyes poured over the words, and he mumbled some incomprehensible gibberish under his breath, in a way that made what should have been utter BS sound like the Pythagorean theorem—and looked up.

"You were right," he said, voice oddly muted. "It is—a message about the boy."

Everyone stared at him expectantly—Gold's eyes flicked back down at the stone, his expression a complete blank.

"It's a...poem."

Everyone else's expressions turned equally blank—except Pan, who burst into a shrill giggle that echoed throughout the jungle.

"Don't leave us in suspense, laddie!" he said, tapping the stone impatiently. The pawnbroker shot him a look of annoyance.

Gold cleared his throat and read, the lilt of his Scottish accent thickening as he spoke the verse,

"Blood divided cannot bleed  
To attain the heart you need  
The mind you have will get you far  
But _two_ will lead you where you are  
In reach of fruit that all do seek  
Blood will be spilt on...jeweled peak."

He paused before the last phrase, adding an appropriate light touch of drama.

The words left the group momentarily speechless.

"Is Doctor Suess one of your many alter egos?" Emma finally asked, voice heavy with irony.

"It would appear our new foe fancies themselves a bit of a poet," he said, ignoring her. He stared at the tablet, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Who writes a ransom note in verse?" Tinkerbell asked—of all the questions that had arisen since the Curse had been broken, Emma would have ranked that about 47th.

"Someone who knows their audience," Gold murmured, more to himself than her.

"And who is that?"

"Peter Pan, of course." He handed the stone tablet back to Pan, stiffly. "It was left at your camp, where you were keeping the boy—clearly this is addressed to _you_."

"How do you figure that?" Emma asked.

"The 'heart' it mentions," Neal said, breaking his silence. "That's Henry. He's got the heart of the truest believer. Pan's the only one who needs it."

"And it's written as a riddle. Peter Pan's the only one for whom you write a riddle."

"'The mind you have will get you far'..." Pan repeated, scratching his chin. "They have a high opinion of my intellect, at least."

"They stole the boy out from under your nose," Hook sneered. Pan scowled at him.

"Not for long," he said, dark promise clear.

"So, where do we have to go?" Emma asked Gold.

"To wherever this 'jeweled peak' is," Gold looked first to his son—who shook his head—he didn't recognize the name. "...Captain?"

Hook blinked and shook his head as well. Gold hissed through his teeth and turned to Pan, expression pained.

"I suppose _you_ know what this is alluding to?"

"I might," Pan smirked.

"And do you plan on sharing this information?"

Pan rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet—you could've almost called it playful.

"That depends, Rumple." He tilted his head. "Do you plan on asking nicely?"

"I don't have to. You wouldn't still _be_ here if you didn't think you needed something from me," Gold replied, grimly—and Pan's mouth thinned. "You'd have gone after Henry on your own the second you heard that clue read."

"But I didn't," Pan conceded, crossing his arms. "From which you conclude—"

"You either don't understand what it meant—or you understand it too well."

Pan _humphed_.

"Clever," he said, grudgingly. "I can tell by your scowl _you_ do."

"But _I_ don't, so why don't you clue the rest of us in?" Emma stepped between them. "What does he mean, Gold?"

Rumplestiltskin broke eye contact with Pan and looked at her.

"Whoever has taken your son thinks it would be amusing to force an alliance."

"An alliance between us and...?"

From behind Gold's back, Peter Pan waved at her, cheerily.

" _Please_ tell me you're joking," she said to the older man. She knew he wasn't.

"This...person took Henry from Pan, then directed a message with a geographic clue only _he_ could understand in a language only _I_ could read," Gold said, flatly. "All of which they must have known and arranged with this outcome in mind."

"So this is, what—a trap?"

"Invariably." Gold let out a long sigh. "But one I'd imagine you're willing to spring."

"No way in hell am I walking away from this." She drew her cutlass and pointed it at Pan. "I'm just not working with _him_."

"Oh, come now, Savior—I'm not so bad," Pan tutted. "Sure, I'm not a one-handed _pirate_ or an evil queen, but I don't bite."

"That doesn't prove anything," said Neal, shaking his head in his father's direction. "Whoever did this would only be forcing the two of _you_ to work together."

"Not necessarily. The poem's author also alludes to blood spilled—presumably for magical ends," Gold replied. "Any one of us could be required to—"

"What does the line about 'blood divided' mean?"

At Snow White's innocent question, Gold's face froze.

"In this case—" he said, slowly—eyes shifting from side to side, in that universal sign for caginess. "We can safely assume it means that the division of this group of people is...inadvisable." Gold preempted her question. "'Blood divided' means—blood _family_ divided."

He shot a sideways look at Pan, who watched him fumble through the answer with rapt interest.

"...Of course, if I knew what the 'jeweled peak' in this line of verse was referring to, I might have a better answer for you." He fixed Pan with a look of pure annoyance—which he took in stride, grinning and leaning back, expectantly. "Will you... _please_ tell us?"

"Of course, laddie," the boy replied, condescendingly—and he hopped up on one of the rocks and addressed them all.

"By now you must've noticed that Neverland is—bigger than it first appears." The only sound that broke their rapt silence was a soft hiss of annoyance emanating from Regina's general direction. "Believe it or not, there are _some_ places on this island that require more than hacking through jungle to get to."

"We get it. It's magic," Emma said, flatly. "I wasn't exactly expecting Neverland to follow the laws of physics."

"It's not like the Enchanted Forest, Ms. Swan," Gold said, crisply. "Our homeland may have magic, but it's still bound by the same physical laws as the place where you grew up is—more or less. Not so, here."

He gave Pan a guarded, penetrating look—which, for once, the boy ignored.

"It's a dream world," the pawnbroker continued. "A place that's not meant to be inhabited by living flesh and blood people."

"But—" Emma turned to Hook, then Neal. "Both of you lived here—the cave where you spent all that time..."

Neal flinched, and his father matched the action, reflectively.

"Aye, Swan—we did."

"How, then?"

"Any rule can be broken, Emma," Pan interjected, smugness oozing from every pour. "With a creative enough mind, any rule can be bent to suit one's needs. And I'm good at being creative."

"You mean _you_ did all this?"

"In a way."

" _What is the point_ of all this, Pan?" Regina slashed the air with her hand, betraying her typical hot-headed impatience—and in this, Emma could hardly blame her. "What does _any_ of this have to do with Henry?"

"The point, your majesty, is that even if you all _were_ powerful enough to retrieve the boy yourself, you wouldn't be able to get to him—not without my help."

"Where is he?" Snow asked.

"If I'm interpreting this clue correctly—and I am—he's been taken to the Veil of Shadows."

Inwardly, Emma groaned. " _The Veil of Shadows"? Really?_ That name fell somewhere between "Dark Hollow" and "Dante's Inferno" on her internal ranking of 'most pleasant sounding places to spend the afternoon'.

"And what the hell is the 'Veil of Shadows', exactly?"

"It's deep in the heart of the island—in underground caves—and concealed magically. You can only get there...if you've been there before."

It was the kind of thing that only made sense if magic was real, so she decided to let that go.

"Let me guess—you have?"

Pan scrunched up his nose.

"Well...not exactly."

"Then what u _se_ are you supposed to be to us?" Regina demanded—and Gold's eyes widened in realization.

"The Shadow—the _Shadow_ has been there before."

"Very good, Rumple." Pan clapped his hands together. "I can see you're holding up this group on the brain power front."

"Your _shadow_ has been places you haven't?" Emma asked, glancing at the fireball that had begun to materialize in an incensed Regina's hand. Half-heartedly, she pushed the other woman's arm down.

"Of course it has! Didn't the good captain tell you about all the wonderful things it can do?" Pan said, airily. "It's been many places I don't know about. It wasn't _always_ mine, you know."

"I never knew that," Neal said, surprised—and Pan's smile turned malicious again.

"It's a story, Bae—you should ask your father—"

"That is besides the point," Gold snapped, cutting Pan off. "What makes you think they're in this Veil?"

"Because there's a crystal waterfall at the center of it—the source of the Veil's magic," Pan replied, smoothly. "'Jeweled peak.' And it's...it's not a place that's easy to traverse. Good for concealment. If _I_ were to kidnap a boy, I'd take him—well, I suppose that isn't quite true."

"Nice." Emma frowned. "Wait—it has a source of magic? Like the spring where the healing water from Neverland comes from?"

"What exactly _is_ this place where my son's been taken, Pan?" asked Regina, stepping forward.

He tilted his head, considering his answer carefully.

"Neverland—as Rumple says—is a dream world," His eyes flickered over each of their pale faces in turn. "A place for children to visit in their dreams. That used to be all it was—until my time. The Veil serves... a similar purpose."

Another shiver went up Emma's spine.

"And what's that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" His ghost of a smile turned grim. "The Veil of Shadows is the land of nightmares."

Oh, God.

 _Henry._

In a literal cave where bad dreams were born.

" _Obviously_ you're going to need my help—you can't get there without me to guide the way, and once we get inside—well," He pulled his knife out of the tree. "You'll soon see I'm your only hope."

For as much as he was playing them to his advantage—Emma could see no way around it. He was only taking advantage of a situation out of his own control. She had a feeling he liked bending temporary setbacks in his favor—that this made everything more 'fun' and 'interesting' for him.

And they were in his power now.

But that power _could_ be useful, if you were desperate enough.

"You're the one who kidnapped him in the first place, Pan," she said, carefully—she was not going to give up the game easily. "Even if you _aren't_ lying to us about all of this—even if someone really took him from you, and thanks to you, we reach Henry—what's to stop you from double crossing us the second we get get him back?"

"You came here to defeat me—didn't you think you were up to the challenge?" Emma scowled at him, so he held up his hands, in a placating gesture. "I suppose it _is_ a risk one would have to be willing to take. But if I were you, I'd consider—have I harmed a hair on the boy's head since he arrived here?"

He pulled a broken hand mirror—Regina's, Emma immediately recognized it—out of his pouch and threw it in the sand in front of the former queen.

"I know you used the Evil Queen's magic to speak to Henry. Tell me, your majesty—how was he?"

Regina pursed her lips.

"Just because you haven't physically hurt him doesn't mean you _won't_."

"There's always the possibility, yes. If _I_ have used any weapons—they're only the ones handed to me." He jumped off the rock, landing on the mirror and cracking it. He dug in his heel with a sickly _crunch_. "You lot aren't exactly one big happy family, are you?"

No—but it was the only family she'd ever been a member of.

And they did have a common purpose. It was the thing she had to think of before everything else: Henry.

Pan lifted his leg and brushed glass from the ball of his foot, delicately.

"I can't make things much worse, can I?" he asked.

"Anyone can make things worse." She shoved the cutlass back in its scabbard. "You spent a lot of time and energy trying to convince us that no one gets off this island unless _you_ let them. That doesn't really jive with someone waltzing in and taking Henry to a secret waterfall—nightmare cavern."

"What's your _point_ , savior?" Pan asked, bristling.

Annoyed by her suggestion he might not be in control—calling his bluff—he stalked towards her. The Savior refused to be cowed, meeting the clear blue impenetrable stare with one of her own.

"All this talk about how we're going to get to Henry—but you haven't said anything about what we'll find when we get there. It's someone who can get around _you_ , clearly." Pan's eyebrows rose in surprise at her nerve. "Who is it that took him?"

His mouth opened—and closed again. He leaned backwards, showing the first flicker of uncertainty.

 _Get used to the feeling, pal._

"You've got quite the prestigious group among you, Emma—queens and princes and pirates," he said, after a long moment. "Rumplestiltskin's got three hundred years worth of enemies, why don't you ask _him_?"

"I will. I'm asking you first." She stuck her finger in his chest and pointed. "Who is this person?"

Peter Pan hesitated.

"For the sake of argument, suppose I— _did_ have a theory," he leaned in, conspiratorial. "I wouldn't say the name aloud, wouldn't even write it down. It's very dangerous. Names have _power_ , don't you know?"

She remembered the scroll Gold had left her in his cell in the Enchanted Forest...'Emma', written over and over again in squid ink—because he 'wanted to make it stick.'

Funny she forgot to ask him why he need it to.

"Yeah, I've heard."

"Then you understand my point." He leaped back on the rock, dismissive of her again, as if she was a toy he'd lost interest with. "I'll give you thirty minutes to discuss my proposition. Rumple—" Gold's eyes flashed. "I know _you'll_ see reason. A half hour, in the Pixie Woods—at _our_ tree."

Gold clenched his fist so tightly it shook.

"Bring whoever you think'll be useful. We'll set off from there."

Without so much as a puff of smoke, he disappeared.

* * *

"We can't trust him."

" _Really_ , Charming? What tipped you off?"

Ten minutes later they were standing in a ragged circle around the stone ransom note, no closer to coming to a decision about what to do than when they'd started.

And Emma was finding it really difficult to concentrate with everyone _talking_.

"If we had just used Pandora's Box on him when we had the chance, we could be halfway back to Storybrooke with Henry by now—"

"He wasn't lying, Regina," Neal said, and it was his reasonable, steady voice voice that rang true through the din of everything else.

Instantly, Regina turned on him, her eyes blazing.

"What, now you've got magical lie-detecting powers like your ex-girlfriend over there?"

"No," Neal said, impassively, and out of the corner of her eye Emma watched her father lightly restrain Neal's from joining him in the 'get in Regina's face' party. "I'm only someone who lived a couple hundred years on this island, and have spent a hell of a lot more time with Pan than you. He's not lying. He doesn't have Henry anymore."

If Neal's goal was to shut Regina up temporarily—it worked. Miracles did happen.

"Why are you so sure?" Snow asked him, hesitantly. When he looked over at Emma's mother, she could see his irritation with Regina melt.

"Because it's not his style."

"Neal is right," the pirate agreed, fiddling with his hook, wearily. "To invent such a tale out of whole cloth—one that places him in our midst when we have a weapon that can be used against him—would go against every inclination Peter Pan has."

"Why's that?"

"Because the thing he prides above everything else is _control_."

They all looked at Gold—hitherto silent and stony-faced. Emma had no doubt she and the pawnbroker were in silent agreement on their course of action—and he might prove the tipping point in any argument.

He was a lawyer at heart, even if the degree did come from a curse.

"He'd never give it up willingly—and going into the Heart of Neverland with everyone here amounts to exactly that."

"A lot of unknown variables," Emma muttered, half to herself. "But if he likes playing games—"

"Only when they're rigged in his favor." Beneath its icy veneer Gold's voice betrayed obvious respect. "By now you must've realized he doesn't use _magic_ to get what he wants, Ms. Swan. Misdirection is the key—slight of hand—playing both sides against the middle—"

Regina laughed—a short, hard _ha._

"Are you describing Pan, or yourself?" she asked, biting.

Gold's eyes flashed in anger.

"The point _is_ ," he continued, through gritted teeth. "That the truth can be far worse than a lie. A more powerful weapon. Something to be used—"

"—Doesn't make it any less true."

At first Emma thought Neal had directed that pointed comment at her—until she saw the frosty look between father and son. She could practically feel the temperature in the jungle drop a few degrees.

That confirmed it. Clearly running into his dad was something that had a) happened to Neal before they rescued him and b) ended badly.

And unlike the Hook and Neal situation, it had become very obvious she couldn't put this one on the back-burner.

"If you want to dance to Pan's tune, then, yes, I suppose that _is_ a fair assessment," his father replied, cooly—Neal gripped the bag on his shoulder tighter.

 _Time to change the subject._

"So, Henry _was_ taken from him, he really _does_ need our help—what do we do?"

"The only thing we can," Hook sighed, heavily. "Call a temporary truce and cooperate with him."

"That's insane," David said, immediately. Emma closed her eyes, hoping in vain to block out the tension headache already forming. Her father's natural reaction was _her_ reaction—this was insane.

"It might be crazy, but it's also choice we've got," Neal said, his jaw so tight Emma could see a pulsing vein in his neck. He met her eyes—his gaze steady, determined—and she nodded. If Neal said it was the only way, that was good enough for her. He'd lived on this island for...God, she was afraid to ask, after seeing those marks on the wall of his cave. "It's the only way to get Henry."

"We knew this wasn't going to be easy the minute we got on that boat. If this is the toughest choice we've got to make—so be it."

She looked over at Regina—the former queen recognized her look of stubborn obstinance well.

" _What_?"

"We're not doing this a group," She looked around at them. "Unless everyone agrees."

"Fine. But if anything goes wrong—"

"It'll be on my head, I get it."

She climbed up on the same rock Pan and stood on and took them in, only a little more comfortable at being 'leader' than she was when they landed.

"So—we got to make a deal with Pan. I'm guessing more than one person here has experience with that." She looked from Tinkerbell to Hook to Gold—whose mouth was a tight and humorless line. "What do we do?"

Hook was the first to reply.

"Keep the terms specific and agree once we get the lad, the truce is over. He'll stab us in the back as soon as look at us when he doesn't need us anymore."

Tinkerbell frowned and shook her head.

"Pan will uphold his end of the bargain—"

"In letter, perhaps. In spirit he'll do everything in his power to undermine us at every turn," Gold interjected, bluntly.

"You sound like you've been burned before, Gold."

His low, bitter laugh—she'd heard him laugh before, but it had always been mocking, not filled with self- recrimination as it was now—surprised her.

"You've no idea."

"You want to do the talking?" she asked, and Neal immediately tensed up. "Making deals is your thing, after all."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Emma."

"And why is that, son?" his father asked—silkily, she thought, not something she'd expected from the older man.

In the short time since Neal had reentered both their lives, and from the little she'd seen of their fraught relationship, Gold was _desperate_ to make things good with her ex. She'd watched him beat a man senseless, strangle Hook, threaten to kill her entire family—but Emma had never seen him so much as _raise his voice_ to Neal.

Neal wasn't bothered by it—in fact, she thought he seemed to enjoy the chance to have it out with his dad. The air between them thrummed with tension.

"Because nobody gets in your head like he does." He said, stepping past Emma and into his father's orbit. "He spooks you."

"If we're speaking of dancing to his tune, son, I'd say you're at least as guilty as I," he said, voice icy.

"If you think I regret—"

"You don't. And that's your right, I can't blame you. But it doesn't change the fact that you need him now —just as you need me."

Neal didn't reply. Father and son stared at each other, neither blinking.

"So you'll do it?" Emma asked, finally, looking from one to the other. "You'll broker the deal?"

They broke eye contact, whatever was between them still unresolved. _For now_.

Yet another thing on her plate to figure out.

"That goes without saying, Ms. Swan." Gold drew himself up—mask back on, back in control—at least he had a shaky grasp of it. "I wouldn't trust the rest of you to do the thing properly."

* * *

"You've come to a decision, then?"

Twenty minutes later, they stood beneath the tallest tree in the Pixie Woods. Gold had lead them here without hesitation, but Emma didn't have the nerve to ask him why Pan and he had a tree that was "theirs".

Maybe this was just one of the many places he did business, as he had in the Enchanted Forest—from the little David and Mary-Margaret had told her, back then he made as many deals with Regina (no love lost there) as he did with her parents (who'd been his jailers for awhile—she guessed the fact that he could've gotten out of said jail at any time had contributed to his general live-and-let-live attitude to them after they made it to Storybrooke.)

The look he was giving Pan now didn't scream "business partners gone wrong" to her. Whatever was between the two of them—was more personal.

The teenager had a knapsack at his side. _He_ was ready for a journey.

"We have."

"I trust it's the right one, laddie." He slung the pack over one shoulder, carelessly. "Time is wasting, and we—"

"There _are_ terms."

Pan's eyes glittered.

"Such as?"

He walked towards Gold—who grit his teeth and didn't step backwards.

"Until we find Henry, there exists between us a...temporary truce. As long as our party remains united and you in sight that truce will remain."

Pan examined his fingernails, carelessly.

"And what's your idea of a truce, Rumple?"

"No one will try to kill you."

"You've got a pretty loose idea of truce, Gold," said Emma, wryly.

"If I thought I could negotiate his silence, Ms. Swan, believe me, I would."

"Fine," Pan agreed, smirking—Emma had noticed the more combative Gold became, the more amused Pan got. The pawnbroker was unusually defensive around him—almost prickly. "Anything else?"

"No magic."

Both of them turned from each other—and their acrimonious stand-off—to look at Neal in disbelief.

"Baelfire—"

" _Bae—_ "

"You want us to trust you?" Neal stepped between them—and was Emma imagining things, or was he addressing his father as much as he was addressing Pan? "No magic. We do this the old fashioned way."

"That's all well and good and _noble_ , Bae—" Pan said, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "But has it occurred to you we might need it along the way?"

"I survived here on my own for a couple hundred years without it," he said, baldly. "Never stopped me."

Pan waved a hand, dismissively.

"I had far more to do with that than you think—and anyway, where we're going isn't quite as tame as what you're used to."

"Then we'll cross the bridge when we come to it." He had that look of stubborn determination in his eyes that she knew meant he was going to stonewall any disagreement on this. "No magic—from anyone. Regina?"

The former queen put her hands on her hips and harrumphed.

"Fine. But I reserve the right to self-defense."

Neal nodded—and then turned to her, eyes softening instantly.

"...Emma?"

She started—her being lumped in with these juggernauts of dark magic was something she could tell her parents were not thrilled about. Gold, conversely, looked interested.

"You're using magic, now?" he asked, voice carefully modulated to be as casual as possible.

"Regina's been giving me pointers since you ditched us on the boat." She turned to Neal. "If Pan is in, I'm in."

"...Papa?"

Gold considered his stone-faced son, and all the confidence drained out of his face.

"Of course, son." He visibly deflated, and Pan's face twisted in an expression of knowing glee. "Whatever you want."

All eyes turned to Peter Pan.

"That just leaves you."

"I can see I'm—outvoted." He shrugged. "Fine—no magic, from the Evil Queen, the Savior, the Dark One—and Peter Pan. For the duration of this trip, unless absolutely necessary."

"Until we find Henry, of course."

"Of course." Pan outstretched his lanky arm and held his hand out to Rumplestiltskin. "Shall we say 'the deal is stuck'?"

For a moment Gold eyed the hand with palpable distrust—Pan's expression of innocence proved too much of an unspoken taunt, though, and he relented, grasping it quickly.

"The deal is struck."

Both Gold and Pan's hands glowed a bright white, and the older man pulled his away as if it had been burned.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

"Just a little contract compliance guarantee," Pan said, smoothly. "Nothing to be concerned about. Is it, Rumple?"

Gold stared at his hand, then slowly looked up at Pan.

Emma saw his hand was shaking—and just as quickly he tightened it into a fist.

"Nothing it all," he agreed.

"Well—" Pan clapped his hands together. "Now, as we're all working together—I suggest we get a move on. Night is coming on fast—and as _certain people_ have insisted no magic, we'll be making a long and difficult journey on foot."

He was delighted.

"It's always night here," Emma muttered, as they all gathered up their things—and as she watched them all prepare to follow their enemy into the unknown, she had more uneasiness in her than she'd felt when she first arrived in Storybrooke.

"It can get darker, Emma," Pan replied to her, cheerily. "And it will—believe me."

 _Great._


End file.
